Life Outside the Cubicle
by Irony12
Summary: Iain really, really hates the receptionist's sister, his job, and that pesky platypus. This is the story of him finding a whole new life just by falling for a girl. A P&P, "The Office" crossover in one chapter and less than 35 pages.


_**Life Outside the Cubicle: A One-Shot**_

"Good morning everyone!"

Oh no. Not again.

"Now in case you didn't know, tomorrow is Bring Your Sibling to Work Day!" my obnoxious boss announced loudly.

Bring Your Sibling to Work Day? I'm almost positive that doesn't exist. Although that never stopped Nicholas before… Who cares about things such as work, or, y'know, productivity? Who wants to work when we can have a break dance contest? Who wants to earn some money when we can attend yet another sexual harassment conference because Nick decided that he just had to tell Carly that she should wear lower cut tops if she wants to make anything of her career?

I looked over at Douglas, who occupies the desk directly perpendicular to mine, who had his hand stuck eagerly in the air. "Question," he pronounced.

Nick, as usual, ignored him.

"So my sister Katie will be joining us and, um, Carly's sister is driving in from New York—"

"No she's not," Carly announced.

"Yes she is," Nick confirmed, seeming pretty angry that she'd interrupted his speech.

"Darcy would never agree to come to one of my stupid work parties."

Nick gasped, horrified. "They're not stupid! And I already called your sister. And she's coming."

"You called my sister?"

Douglas shoved his hand into the air again. "Nick! Nick! Can I bring my pet platypus?"

"You have a pet platypus?" I asked. I don't know why I sounded so shocked. This is Douglas we're talking about here. Of course he has a pet platypus. Why wouldn't he?

"Excuse me. This is my turn to talk," Nick interrupted all of us, while the sales department of Starsky's Pen Distributors began a series of questions about what exactly a platypus is. "Dougie, there will be no platypuses—"

"Platypi?" Freddie, or as Nick began calling him after watching an episode of South Park: Token (Because he's black. Of course…), asked trying to figure out the correct word.

"Carly?" Nick asked looking for confirmation.

We all waited as Carly Googled it. "It's both," she declared after a brief second. Nick makes Carly Google everything. She's gotten to be pretty speedy about the whole thing.

"Ok there will be no platypuses, or platypi, allowed at the party," Nick said.

Douglas cursed under his breath. I sent him an IM telling him that if he were a real man, he wouldn't let Nick boss him around and that he should stand his ground and bring the platypus anyway. Douglas looked at me over his computer and winked comically. I'm pretty sure he was a pedophile in another life.

"Anyway!" Nick shouted, feeling our attention diverting from him and doing all he could to regain the limelight. "Susan, I need you to plan the party—"

"In one day?" Susan asked, flabbergasted.

"And everyone else I need you to bring your siblings!" he cheered. "So, what are we going to do tomorrow?" He raised his hands in the air, expecting us all to chorus a reply. And, of course, no one did. "Iain?" he asked, pointing to me and trying to force me to reply.

I pinched the side of my arm so hard that my eyes began to water then I looked up at Nick with weepy eyes. "I can't," I muttered, pretending to hide my fake tears, "my sister died in a car crash three years ago!"

While everyone else surrounded me with condolences, Nick retreated to his office to sulk that I'd stolen his spotlight and Carly hid a smile behind the back of her hand. Was she honestly the only person that had bothered to note that I'm an only child?

* * *

I woke up the next morning and wished I could just roll over and go back to sleep.

I'm 27 years old. I have absolutely no skills in life, no goals, no plans, and I work in the worst dead-end job there ever was. Oh and everyday I have to put up with Nick. And Doug. And the fact that I'll probably have to wake up and do the exact same thing the next morning.

And I don't see any particular reason to get out of bed. I'm not helping anyone. I have absolutely no impact on the world at large. The only thing I achieve all day is that I managed to convince Doug that he's actually from Mars by paying Carly $25 to call him pretending to be his mother and tell him that she'd adopted him from a top-secret government agency that's hiding the presence of aliens from us. And, yes, he's dumb enough to believe it.

I took a deep breath and dragged myself slowly out of bed. Sure, it's boring but it brings me one step closer to payday. I pulled on my slightly dirty pair of khakis, a striped shirt, and the Looney Tunes tie my nine year old cousin got me for Christmas last year. Sure, I looked like an idiot, but who's going to notice? Nick? (Who, let the record show, wears women's suits.)

I found my black blazer and threw it down next to my one strap messenger bag that I've had since college and still carry around out of habit and not because I have anything particularly important to carry. I quickly brushed my teeth and grabbed my little black comb from my medicine cabinet, brushing through my mop of brown hair and parting it slightly to the left. It was getting kind of long. I considered going to the barber after work, but then remembered that I'd bet Doug $200 that I wouldn't cut my hair for a year. (Easy money.) And that was about it for my morning routine. I don't shave but once a week, because well let's face it: I don't have much facial hair.

I got to the office, waved hello to an oddly twitchy Carly (who I felt I should be nice to since she was the only sane person in this building and currently sharing a bed with my roommate, Jack) who jumped when the phone rang and continued to bite her nails as she answered, and I would have stopped to ask her if she was alright, had it not been for the disgusting animal sitting on Doug's desk.

"Uh? What the hell is that?" I asked calmly, looking at the dirty inanimate object.

Doug looked back at me with his customary "duh!" expression. "It's a platypus. What else would it be?"

"It looks like a stuffed animal."

"That's 'cause it's dead."

_Of course it is. _"Right," I replied dryly, shoving my hands in the pocket of my khakis and trying not to be freaked out. You would think that by now I'd be used to Doug's… oddities.

"Good morning family!" Nick said grandly, as he came into the office, slamming the door on his trench coat while trying to walk away and falling back against the door. Yep. This is the man that makes more money a year than I do. Awesome!

"Did you see that?" he shouted excitedly, standing up and laughing. "Wasn't that funny?" He held up his hand for me to give him a high five. I ignored him. He stood there awkwardly for a second before making to cover for himself by ruffling my hair.

Doug laughed loudly (too loudly). He proceeded to give Nick one of the most awkward, nerdiest high-fives I'd ever seen.

While I re-fluffed my hair, combing it with my fingers to fix the damage Nick had created, (The physical damage at least. The mental damage would take at least three years with an award winning therapist to even get into. In the end I decided not to even try. Mostly because I'm pretty broke.) Carly was still biting her nails, and I took Nick's preoccupation with the presence of a stuffed platypus in his office to sidle over to her receptionist's desk.

"You okay?" I asked simply as she watched the door and ignored Doug's whiney pleas about not throwing away the stuffed platypus.

"Darcy's coming," she said as if that explained everything. And it kind of did. Darcy's a successful, wealthy, "Queen of Town" kind of girl. She had the look of a city girl and the intelligence of… someone really smart. In other words: she was the opposite of everyone that worked here. She was sleek, successful and too good to talk to anyone as lowly as a Pen Distributor. And she made sure everyone knew it.

Ok so maybe I'm not Darcy's number one fan. Can you blame me? Last year she'd turned up for Carly's birthday having just spent a year in France, with a new contract to do some editorial work for the New York Times and the ability to make even the smartest person feel stupid without saying a single word. And now she's writing for the New Yorker and I'm still here. With Nicholas. And Doug. Selling pens. That don't even work.

But Darcy could take her success and shove it up Doug's ass. I don't need her quiet judgments from across our dinky conference room, or her nose stuck three feet up in the air, or her insults. Yep, to add flame to the fire (Does that even make sense?) Darcy decided to insult the pathetic "awkward guy that probably still lives with his parents." And that's verbatim. (Let the record show that I'm not that awkward—I'm just tall and skinny. And I don't live with my parents—I share a small condo with my good friend since grade school.)

And with that bitter thought I heard the door get whisked open and there stood Darcy in a casual sundress and a big smile. "Oh, hello," she said, seeming slightly startled by my presence there by her sister's desk, with my hands shoved in my pockets. In an instant the smile was gone.

I gave her a thin-lipped, false smile (meant only to mock hers) and got caught dead in my tracks. Ok. Absolute worst thing about Darcy: She's completely and utterly gorgeous. She has this deep, dark, soft, wavy hair that she normally has strapped down in a high powered bun, but today had flowing over her shoulders with swooping bangs framing her blazing blue eyes that shone brightly against her perfectly tan, unblemished skin and kind of left you tingling about her soft, understated curves. Oh, and to top it off, she smelled like sunshine. And there isn't much a guy can do to fend off the disturbing physical attraction, except build a wall around himself and constantly remind himself that she once called you a pathetic loser.

But when she sneaks up on you unawares like that, it's rather difficult to remember your name, yet alone the fact that you absolutely despise this girl.

"Darcy!" Carly squeaked excitedly, forgetting her nervousness in the rush of seeing her favorite sister, and standing up to hurry to her sibling and sweep her into a big hug.

And I had to back away. I don't know how, but she really did smell like sunshine. It made me oddly lightheaded. I figured I should sit at my desk as soon as possible.

"Darcy!" Nick boomed joyously, also rushing over to Darcy, trying to capture her in a hug, but failing when she stepped away and extended her hand for him to shake. I tried to suppress my laughter at Nick's eagerness, but my amusement flickered and died as soon as I saw Darcy's eyes flick over Nick's shoulder and catch me mid-chortle.

The way she looked at me, it was always rather unsettling. And unwontedly intense.

I got back to work, and by work of course I mean torturing Doug. I started by dialing his cell phone through 411 and hanging up every time right before he answered. Then I proceeded to send him flirty messages, from the screen name I'd made up (KuddleQueen), as his secret online girlfriend (whom he met in a chat room and was really turned on by his musket collection and extensive knowledge of reptiles as well as congressional code of conduct).

Then I sent a message to Carly, telling her I'd give her $20 if she casually dropped in a few references to things the KuddleQueen had recently mentioned to Doug and thereby convince him that she was his secret online girlfriend.

She sent me back her compliance.

About five minutes later, none other than Darcy arose from Carly's computer, with a decidedly blank poker-face and began to discuss the magnificence of the mole rat with Doug. Then she brought up the money maker—the fact that she had an online friend that she'd met in a chatroom that had a Civil War musket owned by General Sherman himself (who just happens to be Doug's idol). Doug looked as though he'd just had a heart attack. I'm sure I couldn't have looked much better—still shocked that Darcy had agreed to my deal and not Carly.

And so Darcy spent the next hour perched on the corner of Doug's desk, putting up with his rambling description of his adoration for General Sherman and his heroic march to the sea, and every so often shooting me warped glances that mingled her customary placid expression with wide-eyed amusement. I made a point of trying not to look back.

Susan then strode out of the conference room with her lips pierced in her usual look of disapproval. "The party is ready," she declared. Once Susan was ready, the entire world had to be ready as well.

I was a bit reluctant to enter the "festivities" for no other reason than the fact that Nick and his sister Katie were planning on showing us their new polka dance, but, when I saw that Darcy too had made little effort to flock towards the "merriment" and was instead preoccupying herself with examining me as if her scrutinies were going unnoticed, I quickly rushed inside the room along with everyone else.

Parties in this office are basically the same every time. Same streamers. Same foods. Same cups that we've had for the past two years because Nick had gotten into a bit of a frenzy and ordered a thousand neon pink cups with panda bears on them from some Chinese catalogue. Same arrangement of chairs in an awkward circle with the food table pushed off to the side. But you had to give poor Susan credit. Nick was always coming up with new "holidays" to celebrate and she'd become practiced enough that she could organize the entire ordeal within an hour.

Like most parties in this office it was the same conversations, by the same old people. Nick's senile sister, Katie, was there and I somehow managed to get wrangled into an unsubtle conversation with her about "the benefits of dating a younger man." (Cue awkward arm groping.)

I quickly escaped her evil clutches and rushed toward the food table, hoping that maybe I could at least discuss last month's sales reports with Freddie. I breezed past Doug and Darcy, trying not to laugh outright as I overheard Doug ask her eagerly if she'd like to pet his platypus. Darcy's eyes bugged and her body stiffened in mortal fear. (No need for innuendos with Doug. He had the social perceptiveness of… well a platypus.)

Before I could reach Freddie, Nick had pulled me aside and asked me enthusiastically if I thought he had a shot with Darcy. I cast a glance over my shoulder at her trying desperately to escape Doug, and told him that she'd be insane to refuse him a date. Nick was in high spirits and offered me a raise. I wasn't too flattered because I knew that human resources had taken away Nick's right to give raises when he'd entrusted a $10,000 raise upon Gladus as a "wedding present." But I appreciated the gesture anyway.

Ten minutes later and I was eating my sixth brownie and watching in amusement as Darcy stood stone-faced listening to an eager proposal by Nick. No doubt he would consider the two of them engaged by now. Poor desperate man… But Darcy would only be so lucky. At least Nick had a personality. That's more than she can say.

Eventually, to my disappointment, Carly valiantly came to her sister's rescue asking Nick to dance in order to give Darcy a break. Darcy might have looked relieved, but I'm not sure if she's capable of expression.

And before I'd even known what had happened, Darcy was standing next to me, asking if I'd eaten the last brownie. (I was glad that I had. She probably wouldn't have even properly enjoyed such a delicious dessert.)

"So?" I asked eventually, having stood beside her for at least two very long minutes without her having uttered a word. "I guess I owe you $20."

Darcy shrugged. "It's okay. Keep your money."

I wanted to scowl. Of course it was me that should keep their money. Maybe if I saved up long enough I could move out of my parents' house, right? She's such a presumptuous, little witch. But I didn't scowl, because I'm Iain. I'm supposed to be the funny guy, not the pissed-off guy.

Cue more awkward silence.

"Do you want to dance with me?" Darcy blurted out unexpectedly.

I looked back at her blankly. "Why?"

"Because Doug keeps eyeing me and I'm not sure my stomach can bear another monologue about the internal structure of salamanders."

I blinked at her. "You know salamanders are rather interesting creatures…"

She bit her bottom lip and hid a smile. (Gasp! Did Darcy just express an emotion? Shocker.) I briefly wondered why my stomach had just turned over. Must have been all the salamander talk….

"I suppose," I replied to her first question, "but only because I feel partly responsible for his recent infatuation. Plus, I'm a bit scared that if he gets too attached to you, he'll stuff you and add you to his taxidermy collection."

Wow, two smiles in a row. Perhaps Darcy was popping a few happy-pills today?

I gave her my hand and she lightly placed her fingers in mine. They were soft. I suddenly realized that mine were all calloused from playing guitar with Jack after work everyday, but Darcy didn't seem to show any expression that indicated that she was disturbed by them. I took this to mean that she actually wanted to go through with the dancing. I placed my other hand as lightly as I could on her waist and she did the same to my shoulder, taking an extra step closer to me than I'd agreed to.

And there it was again. That scent. Sunshine. There really was no other way to describe it. Was it a perfume? Or just her natural scent? Whatever it was, it was like a spell. No one could be angry when there was something so sweet wafting through the air. No one could hate her when they were holding her so close.

Which was all the more reason the step back.

And I did. And Darcy twinged pink and bit her lip again. And my stomach did another back flip. I didn't like this one bit.

"I'm expecting a call in a couple of minutes," I replied, quickly and lamely excusing myself, all the while keeping my gaze down so that I didn't have to look at her. And hoping I could make it through the rest of the day without having to be so close to her again.

"Iain?" she said softly, as I tried to shuffle away from her. I stopped and looked at her again, forgetting my resolution almost instantaneously. "That's a really nice tie," she said, bottom lip being chewed on once again.

I looked down at the good old Looney Tunes and felt my neck heat up with a blush. I couldn't decide if she was being mocking or condescending. Probably both.

Perhaps it would be best if I took my call from the HR office down the hall. At least there I wouldn't have to worry about the party. Or Doug. Or, you know… other people.

* * *

Life goes on. Time goes by. Nick continues to make "that's what she said" jokes like they're funny and I continue to mock him to every employee that I work with outside of Doug… and Nick. (Although he wouldn't really understand that I was talking about him, I think.)

It was a Friday afternoon and I was wrapped in that warm bubble that envelops me every time I get out of work for the weekend. I got home, threw my messenger bag into a distant corner (knowing that come Monday I'd be searching for it frantically) and quickly changed into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, feeling less like Work Iain and more like Normal Iain (oxymoron) as every second ticked by.

I watched a re-run of The Daily Show. I played two songs on Rock Band. I bounced a rubber ball against the refrigerator. Then I answered the phone. (Because it rang. Not because I'm crazy.)

"Iain's Pizzeria," I intoned as I picked up the phone where I'd finally found it shoved in between the couch cushions.

"Iain?" a feminine voice asked. Huh? A girl?

"Yeah. Did you want to order a pizza?"

"Um."

Ok, she sounded confused. I don't think she understood that I was only messing with her, whoever she was. By the way… "Who is this?"

"Darcy."

Darcy? What? "Oh. Ok."

Cue long, awkward silence. "Did you call for any particular reason, Darcy?"

"Oh." Was Darcy always a bit scatterbrained on the phone, or was this a recent development? "I called for Jack. I need to speak with Jack."

"With Jack?"

"Yeah. About Carly's surprise party."

What? Carly's having a surprise party? Why does Jack continuously fail to mention these things? If he weren't just about the most polite guy in the world, I would assume that he did it maliciously. "Oh. When's that?"

"Friday. Er. Next Friday."

Oh god, so soon? I had only just seen Darcy but three weeks ago at "Sibling Day." Now I have to do the whole disaster again in a week? Not. Cool.

"Yeah, I assumed you'd know since Jack's having it at your place," Darcy continued.

Of course he is. I don't care how nice he is, Jack might wake up tomorrow to find all his underwear has suddenly gone missing. "Oh yeah. I remember now." I don't even know why I said that. Do you ever just find words slipping out of your mouth with absolutely no explanation as to why?

"Ok well, I have a lot of work to do"—like I don't? (That bouncy ball won't bounce itself!)—"but can you just tell Jack I called? I really need to talk to him."

"Okay."

"And um"—I could almost hear her biting her lip over the phone. (What a weird tick to have.)—"I'll see you next Friday."

Oh great. A reason to dread the weekend. Do I get to find no happiness in life?

* * *

The thing about parties in which Nick has been invited is that they normally end badly. Oh, and the mere fact that Nick was invited.

"Have you ever noticed that when you're hungry the food channel is kind of like porn?" Nick said, punching me in what he probably assumed to me a lighthearted manner, but actually kind of hurt.

"Wow." That's Nick. If Jim Gaffigan (or any other comedian for that matter) has said it then it just has to be funny, right? (Even when taken out of context.) "That's _so _funny." Yep. Just hilarious. I rubbed my arm that was still rather sore and offered to get Nick a beer.

"Um. Do you have any Appletinis?" he asked, looking around no doubt for the birthday girl to tell her the same stolen joke he'd just told me.

"Erm. I'll figure something out." I ran away. I ran as quickly as possible. Seeing Nick for nine hours a day, five days a week was chore enough, now he had to invade my sanctuary and come bother me at home. And it's all Darcy's fault—

"Oh! I'm so sorry!"

Darcy. Sopping wet, beer soaked crotch. Great. Just great.

"Oh shit," I muttered, holding up my hands in the air and letting my beer drip off them.

"I didn't mean to, Iain—"

"It's fine. You're fine. Better it was beer than a glass of bleach, right?"

Darcy's eyebrows furrowed. "Why would you be carrying around a glass of bleach?"

Alright. Never mind.

"I'm just going to… go change," I muttered. Darcy is weird. Wouldn't she just go crazy to think that someone thinks she's weird? That thought made me smile. I would just love to drive Darcy crazy. Although I'd love it even more if I plain old didn't have to see her ever again.

Darcy blushed as if she were reading my thoughts (and no I was definitely not thinking about Darcy going on a rampage and breaking every object in my apartment). "Ok. I'll just go say hi to my sister." You know for a writer, Darcy sure is lacking in conversational skills.

"Right. You do that."

I slowly changed into some dry clothes and took my time getting back to the party. Let's face it, was there any rush to get back to the racist jokes and awkward conversations?

I eventually screwed up my courage and made my way back to the "raging" party downstairs. I quickly found Jack and tried to lodge myself into his conversation with the quirky blonde he was conversing adamantly with.

"Yeah, Nick's a bit of a character—Oh hey Iain."

"Hello Jack," I said, holding up and awkward hand and giving a single-motioned wave.

"You're Iain?" the blonde asked, seeming quite shocked to meet me. "As in _the _Iain?"

"Well, I'm sure there's more than one…"

"I'm Lily!" she replied, shaking my hand with enthusiasm.

"Lily? _The _Lily?" I repeated looking at the girl I knew to be Carly's favorite cousin.

Lilly nodded excitedly. "You're sarcastic. No wonder she likes you."

I blinked. Uh… what?

"Iain," Jack interrupted my mental drooling, "Lily works in PR. She was just telling me about the first time she met Brad Pitt."

"Oh?" I asked, returning my attention back to Lily and forgetting her awry comment. "What's he like?"

"Short," she replied. Well, we have a real Shakespeare on our hands here.

I looked over at Jack, but noticed that he'd suddenly gone missing. I did however notice that Doug had fallen asleep shortly after our Dance, Dance Revolution tournament (yeah. Dough loves DDR. He has every song memorized.) and was snoring audibly in my La-Z-Boy. Oh. He was just begging for trouble.

"I was thinking toothpaste," Lily's voice interrupted my thoughts. "Not only does it feel great when it hardens on your face, but it's great for the pores."

I looked over to see this Lily girl grinning mischievously and watching Doug just as eagerly as I had been.

"Crest works best," she added, looking back at me with that wicked gleam I recognized every time I felt a good prank coming on.

"I use Rembrandt."

Lily shrugged, but continued to grin. "It'll work."

I think I'm going to like this Lily girl.

* * *

"Everyone, I have an announcement," Jack proclaimed, standing up on one of the chairs by our kitchen table and announcing to the large group of work "friends" that were collected in my apartment.

But Lily, Gladus, Freddie, Susan (who merely had her lips pressed together in disdain), Darcy (who was really just standing there awkwardly by her cousin Lily and scowling to herself) and I were playing a game of "Who would you rather sleep with?" and Lily was mid-explanation about why Nick would statistically be good in bed (apparently some women find eccentric to be sexy…).

"Everyone!" Jack shouted again and our attention snapped to him. "Thank you." Jack was flushed under the gazes of the group; he had never really liked being the center of attention. "Now, I just wanted to tell you that I just asked our lovely birthday girl to marry me and she's just drunk enough to say yes."

What?

"No way!" Lily, who was a wee bit tipsy, shouted loudly.

We then all looked at Carly, who was blushing demurely and trying to hide her face behind her hands.

What? Was I the only person in this room that was completely flabbergasted? Nope. I suddenly noticed that Darcy had turned rather pale and was gripping her Bud as if she might chuck it at Jack. Arrogant bitch. I suddenly found I was quite determined to be happy for Jack and Carly, rather than be grouped in the "bitter" category with Darcy.

But. I mean. My roommate. My best work friend. Life as I knew it was over. Who the hell would I talk to if Carly quit? Who the hell would I complain to about how much I hate my job if Jack moved out?

But I was happy for them. I swear. Just a bit… surprised. And dizzy. I think I need to lie down…

Minutes later I found myself lying on my bed, watching my room spin around me. I couldn't tell if I was having a panic attack, or just had too much alcohol in my system. Either way the room was beginning to spin quicker.

"Are you okay?" I heard a voice ask.

I looked up. I wish I hadn't. There was Darcy. Standing in my room. Holding a beer and looking quite pale. Beautiful, but pale.

Beautiful? Did I really just think that?

Bad Iain. Darcy is not beautiful. She's evil. And bitter. And rude. And proud. Very, very proud.

"What?" I asked, rolling over on my bed until I was sitting with my legs dangling off the side. I was suddenly struck with how dirty my room was. My underwear was lying in plain sight on the floor. Darcy's eyes flicked to it. Bitch. I mean sure it's a bit dirty, but that's no reason to look so repulsed by it.

What the hell is she doing in here anyway?

"I just saw you sneak up the stairs and I was wondering if you were okay," she replied, deciding to ignore my underwear with great effort and taking an uninvited seat beside me on my bed.

"I didn't think anyone had noticed," I supplied lamely. God she was sitting close to me.

Darcy shrugged. "Well I did."

"Well, you seemed so shocked that I hardly thought you'd notice any thing at all."

…

…

Yeah. Conversation with Darcy is a bit like getting teeth pulled.

"It's not everyday your sister gets engaged," I prodded. "Well unless your sister's Paris Hilton."

…

Never mind. I'd rather have every single tooth in my mouth yanked then sit here and try to talk to Darcy for one more second.

"Do you want to go out sometime?"

What?

"What?"

I looked at her. She was biting her lip. Stupid, stupid habit. I wish I knew what the hell it meant.

Darcy shrugged and looked down at my clothing scattered floor. "I know it might be weird that we live in different cities and that we live different lives, but I just wanted to know if you wanted to see a movie next time I'm in town," she rambled quickly and in a single breath. I'd never heard Darcy say so many words. I was flabbergasted. What the hell do I say to that? "Or, you know… if you ever came to the city…"

Suddenly my jaw clenched. This had to be some kind of prank. Doug. Oh Doug. Did he have no grasp on subtlety? "Is this a joke?" I chipped quickly, jumping to my feet so that I didn't have to sit so close to her and her sunshiny scent.

Darcy shook her head slowly.

What? She was honestly asking me out. "Why the hell would you want to go out with me?"

"Because I like you."

I paused, shocked. I decided to redirect. "And what made you think I'd want to go out with you?"

Darcy shifted uncomfortably on my bed. She looked so tiny next to my bed. If I wanted to I could just pick her up. And the buttons on her shirt, they probably wouldn't be too hard to get off. Good thing I didn't want to…

"Darcy, you've been nothing but rude to me since the first second I met you. You insult me. You look down your nose at my friends. You walk around this place, too good to socialize. Too successful to be around such social misfits."

"I… that's not…"

"Just because you're beautiful, doesn't mean the whole world is going to lie down in the palm of your hand." I was pacing across my bedroom now, stepping on my dirty clothing, my hands shoved into the pockets of my favorite jeans and my Yankees baseball cap pulled down over my eyes.

"I don't think that." Her voice sounded small, had I actually intimidated the great Darcy? "I just—" Suddenly Darcy seemed to snap and her back went rigid and her lips pressed into a thin line. "Who are you to judge me?" she suddenly snapped.

"Oh you know just that 'awkward guy that probably still lives with his parents,'" I said mocking her first insult.

"Yeah, you're right. You're just a guy. And I'm just a girl that doesn't have to put up with these kinds of insults!" She too stood and stormed to the door, but stopped before she could storm out. "And, for the record, I wanted to go out with you because I'm _inexplicably _attracted to you!" she shouted and then departed.

I took a deep breath and fell back onto my bed. Yep, it was definitely spinning faster.

But the good news is that Darcy's capable of emotion.

* * *

"Hello sunshine," Lily sang in my ear, slurring slightly and plopping down clumsily on the arm of the recliner I'd been sitting sulking in. "I think our little prank pissed someone off," she said, gesturing wildly to Doug who sat, his face blotchy and still scattered with dots of dried toothpaste, glaring at me.

"Yeah," I grunted, my eyes flicking on their own accord to Darcy who sat with him placidly listening to Doug's rant, no doubt, about my immaturity.

"And poor Darcy seems upset too," Lily added frowning. "She looks absolutely miserable." Lily looked at me out of the corner of her eye. "That's kind of sad. She was really excited about coming here."

"She was?" I asked, intrigued, prying my eyes off the sulking pair.

"Yeah." Lily leaned in closer to my ear. "I think she has a crush on you. Se bites her lip every time someone says your name."

"Darcy always bites her lip."

Lily shook her head. "Nuh-uh. Only when she's nervous." Lily giggled and hiccoughed. "Hehe. Iain, you make her _nervous_."

"I what?" I make her nervous?

"She gets all quiet around you. Normally you can't get her to shut up." Cue more uncontrollable giggling. "But around you, no words. You take away all her words. She has a crush on you!" she sang, poking me oddly on the nose.

Suddenly Darcy's eyes drifted away from the sour-faced Doug and landed directly on mine. Predictably, she bit her lip, but surprisingly she didn't look away. Looking at Darcy like that was a bad idea, (That stupid stomach-flipping feeling always made me feel sick.) but her eyes were shining and she seemed kind of… self-conscience. I couldn't look away.

Suddenly Lily wobbled on the arm of my chair and I had to stabilize her before she tumbled off it and fell to the floor. "I'm slightly drunk," Lily proclaimed.

"Mm-hmm," I agreed.

"Take me to Nick," she decided. "He promised to take me home."

I shrugged, willing to let her go home with him. Nick left no reason to worry. He was a freak, but he was no rapist. (Plus, Lily had made it perfectly clear that she wouldn't have cared much if Nick had made a move on her. She's a freak, I tell you.)

And it was back to my room for me. Carly and Jack had disappeared long ago. I'm pretty sure that meant I was allowed to go to bed too.

And thank god the day was over.

* * *

I would like to say that things got back to normal, but they didn't. Things never do.

You're going to think I'm on crack. (Hell, when I think about it, I'm pretty sure I'm on crack too.)

Three days after Carly's birthday party, Nick disappeared.

Perhaps we would have worried, if we hadn't gotten a postcard from him that Friday from Jamaica. Leave it to Nick to send in his letter of notice on a postcard that says "We be jammin'."

If you think about it, it's kind of perfect. I couldn't picture Nick bowing out any other way.

It wasn't for another three weeks that I got a phone call from the district manager, asking me to come into the city for an interview. Nick's job. Me doing Nick's job. Why did that sound more like death sentence than an opportunity?

While Nick was gone the office was kind of in disarray. More productive than ever, but still in disarray. There was no rhyme or reason to anything. People came in, met their quotas for the day, then split at about two in the afternoon (or wondered in at about 11 a.m. and even then, had plenty of time to dawdle). We'd been so used to having to put up with Nick's antics all day, then having to rush to get our work done, that we could now finish an entire day's work in about three hours.

So as soon as Carly discovered that I'd be going into the city for my interview (that I hadn't told anyone else about), she decided to hop in my car in hopes that I might drop her off on Fifth Avenue for a bit of wedding dress browsing.

And so on Tuesday afternoon, about a month after Nick was last seen, Carly and I jumped into my two door Jetta and headed toward New York.

"So, I was thinking about the wedding," Carly said, eagerly pulling a bridal magazine out of her purse. "Of course you'll be best man—"

I grunted. Yay.

"—And since you're personally vested in the choice, I was wondering if you like navy for the accent color. Silver and navy for your vest and tie?"

I shrugged. "Um sure."

"Ok, keeping that in mind, Darcy's agreed to be my maid of honor and I was wondering if you could picture Darcy in this." She held up an ad in the magazine of a dark-haired woman in a backless, mid-calf, silk red dress that was looking over her shoulder through thick dark eyelashes. Oh god. I could already see Darcy in that dress. She would have her hair down, thick and wavy and framing her face. Her lips would be thick and pouty, as soft as that red dress. Her eyes would be sparkling through her thick lashes, demurely.

"Are you picturing blue?"

I scowled and forced my attention back to the road. "No. I'm picturing red."

Carly looked at the glossy page. "But it _is_ red," she said, frowning at the image.

"Which is probably why I'm picturing red."

"Ugh. You're worse than Jack. Have an opinion, could you?"

I screwed up my eyes in concentration. Darcy in blue. Darcy in blue… "Nope. It's still red."

There was silence while Carly continued to stare at the picture and I tried to wipe that damn image of Darcy out of my head. It was haunting me, and that was only the thought of it. Imagine the real live thing….

"It's a bit sexy, don't you think?" I commented casually. "You don't want her showing-up the bride, do you?" Not, subtle at all. Hell, I was even twitching.

Carly shrugged. "Eh, what do I care? I already have Jack and a lifetime of happiness. Darcy, however, needs to look good. Darcy needs a man."

"Darcy needs a man?" I asked dumbly. "I never got the impression that Darcy had any trouble with men."

Carly began to flip through her magazine again. "Yeah, I mean she does fine, but she's been kind of cautious since she got her heart broken."

"Huh?" I grunted. Yeah, eloquent.

"She fell head over heels with some guy named Garret in France, but she got offered a job back in America and he gave her no reason to stay."

What?

"And now she's been wallowing ever since. More so lately."

"Lately?"

Carly shrugged. "You'll have to ask Darcy. I've been in a bubble of happiness lately. Did I tell you I'm quitting my job?"

Yeah. Carly had told everyone she's quitting her job. Apparently her and Jack had "a plan." They'd been saving up to buy a house, Jack was getting a promotion (which is what prompted the engagement), Carly's quitting her job, and they hope to have their first child in about two years. Blah, blah, blah.

I can't wait until I can have my own Five-Year-Plan! Yeah, you know, like Stalin. Captivity, I tell you. Captivity.

She looked at me out of the corner of her eye. I had a feeling that that glint in her eye was something I wasn't going to like too much. "What's with the sudden interest in Darcy?"

* * *

I suppose my interview went okay. I mean, sure, I started contemplating my own suicide when they began comparing my progress in the company to Nick's, but that didn't really matter. Just because we both started working here when we were 19 didn't mean we were the same person, did it? (Oh god, please say no.) But on the whole, I think I had the thing in the bag.

I am doomed to become Nick.

So, you can be assured that I was wallowing in the pathetic state of my life when I called Carly after my interview, loving that the sky had opened up and rain was drizzling down, reflecting my mood. Carly had gotten tired of wondering around in the rain in stores she couldn't afford and had wondered back to her sister's apartment to raid her fridge.

And so I found myself being buzzed up to Darcy's apartment and the elevator doors dinging open onto Darcy's floor.

And me praying that Darcy wouldn't be home.

Carly let me in and showed me into the gorgeous apartment that I thought only existed in Sit-Coms. Under country standards, it was small, but for a Manhattan apartment, this must have cost a fortune.

I whistled. "How can Darcy afford a place like this?"

"Our parents left it to us when they passed."

"Why don't you live here then?"

Carly just shrugged. "I prefer the simple life."

Carly proceeded to give me the grand tour of the apartment, then left me to my own devices on the leather sofa to channel surf, while she raided Darcy's designer shoe collection. I couldn't help but check out a few of Darcy's TiVo'd programs but was disappointed to merely find nine billion episodes of Law and Order. That did nothing to unlock the enigma that is Darcy. Everyone and their mother (mine included) watches Law and Order. I was expecting something revealing, you know like Hallmark channel movies.

And that's how I was discovered when a sopping wet, white shirt clad Darcy came clattering into her apartment.

"Iain!" she gasped as soon as she saw me, staring at her wide eyed from her sofa and trying not to look down at her shirt (or lack thereof). Darcy quickly clasped her arms over her chest, blushed and hastily excused herself to go change.

"What's Iain doing here?" I heard Darcy gasp to her sister through the walls.

"You know you're shirt's see-through, right?" Carly responded.

This was followed by a loud thud. I think Darcy threw her shoe or something.

Five seconds later a giggling Carly had been booted out of Darcy's room and was sitting in exile with me on the couch. But I was actually miles away, in a world in which it rained skittles and not water and no one was allowed to wear white shirts. (Women have so many tricks up their sleeves. It's just not fair.)

Eventually, a freshly-clothed Darcy made her appearance, her wet curls hanging damply around her shoulders and a blush tinting her cheeks.

"So," Carly shouted, breaking the heavy silence, with a wide smile, "you guys want to go out for drinks?"

* * *

Now I find myself in the apartment of one of Darcy's friends, singing "Should I Stay or Should I Go?" on Rock Band while three other guys rock the other instruments, and I fail miserably.

But at least the other four or five people in the small apartment seemed entertained.

"Wow," the drummer said as we finished our song (or rather were booed off the stage), "I think that was the worst rendition of the Clash that has ever been." Riche, the drummer as well as Carly and Darcy's hardly-mentioned younger cousin, smiled at me specifically and patted me on the shoulder. "It's cool man. You can't be good at everything."

I frowned. Good at everything? The _only _thing I'm good at is video games.

"So, dude, what's your story?"

I blanched. "My story?"

"Yeah, tell me about yourself."

"Leave him alone Richie," Darcy commanded, stepping into our conversation and scowling angrily at her cousin. "Iain, don't put up with my cousin here," she said to me, looking at me in the eye. "He suffers from a lack of social grace."

"Yes, we can't all be as perfect as you, Little Miss Lip Biter," Richie teased. "Don't let Darcy's ego deter you. Just tease her and she quickly comes back to earth."

And with that Darcy chuckled. I'd never seen Darcy laugh before. It was a hiccoughing little bell noise, and it made my ears perk up in delight. (Yeah, delight. I'm a real man.) It was a pretty sound. I could listen to it all day, but the best part was that her eyes lit up, brighter than a sunset. (Yeah, that's a metaphor. Still doubt my manliness?)

Stupid glimmering blue eyes. See? Just not fair.

"Iain?" Richie echoed. "As in _the _Iain?"

Darcy turned scarlet. I was merely confused. That was the second time I'd received a similar action. Richie smiled to himself, but bit back any further comments.

"So, um, are you Lily's brother?" I asked, trying to be conversational, but really just trying to get off whatever subject we were on before.

Richie nodded. "Her brother and roommate. Former roommate rather."

"Former?" Darcy asked.

Richie shrugged. "Beats me. She took off for Jamaica about a month ago and now I'm stuck having to find a new roommate before next month's rent hits or else I'm out."

My eyes grew wide. Did he just say Jamaica? For a month? It was just too big of a coincidence. But the idea in itself was far too ludicrous…

"Um Darcy," I said, turning to her, still wide-eyes. "Did you know that Nick also disappeared to Jamaica… about a month ago."

"Really?" she asked. Wait for it. Wait for it… "What!" she squeaked, her eyes suddenly as wide as mine. "It has to be a coincidence, right?"

I shrugged and shook my head. You know, Darcy's rather pretty when her eyes are all wide like that. Perhaps I should make a point of saying shocking things more often. Or at least I would, if I cared at all what kind of reaction I had on Darcy. I frowned, suddenly realizing that this was the second time in this conversation I'd been waxing lyrical about Darcy's expression.

"That is absolutely amazing!" she squeaked, her face flushed with the realization. "Nick will be related to me." She giggled again. For some reason, unbeknownst to me, I felt drawn to her and literally took a step closer. It really wasn't fair that Darcy had to be so pretty. And sexy. The skin at the bottom of her stomach was peeking out from under her pink tank-top. In fact, there was a lot of skin peeking out and all I could think about was that it looked quite soft. And that she has a nice laugh. I wish I could make her laugh again.

"If you're lucky, they'll have babies. Can't you just picture miniature Nicks running around, catching things on fire, making 'that's what she said' jokes." I stared off into the distance dramatically. "Yeah, it's a beautiful sight."

Darcy laughed again and touched me lightly on the arm. (Man I'm on a roll.) My skin tingled, but I ignored it. It was probably just the relief rushing through my blood that Darcy was capable of a reaction other than biting her lip.

"You're different." Yeah, that was me. The burning spot on my skin had suddenly possessed me to make blunt observations, and had also spread through my entire body, covering my skin in goose bumps.

Darcy looked up at me, a smile still spread across her face, her eyes still all… sparkly. "I'm not different," she defended, her voice light and airy.

I nodded. "If we were in Pennsylvania, you'd be sitting there awkwardly biting your lip."

Darcy blushed. "I'm sorry," she gushed. "It's a nervous tick. No offense, but Doug really freaks me out."

I laughed appreciatively. Understandable. "To be honest, he scares the shit out of me too."

Yep. She was laughing and like a moth to a flame I took another involuntary step closer.

"I like this," she said, gesturing to the space between us. "We're actually getting along; normally our encounters are pretty… awkward."

"Yeah." Awkward would probably be the understatement of the year.

She blushed. "I'm sorry." I hadn't a clue what she was apologizing for. "You scare me a little bit," she elaborated eventually, noticing how lost I seemed. "You're smart and witty and you caught me off-guard when we first met because I wasn't expecting to—"

"Darcy!" Richie shouted across the room.

I jumped back, not even having realized how close I'd moved to her. Wait. Stop. I want to hear the rest of her sentence. What wasn't she expecting? Damn it Richie, I want to know.

"Darce, we have the perfect song for you!" Richie shouted again, gesturing to the Rock Band microphone.

Darcy shot me a brief furvitive look and bit her lip. (Which I was starting to realize was actually rather cute… Did I just think that?) She shrugged to me and made her way back toward the screen just as the television starting blasting out the opening cords of Bon Jovi's "Dead or Alive."

And Darcy got up there, wriggled her hips and smiled at her sister, who gave a wooping cheer from the sofa. Darcy mumbled her way through the first three stanzas, bumbling over the lyrics flatly and interrupting her own incoherent noises with her own bubbly laughter. But the chorus, the chorus she knew and she paused dramatically and shouted the words as loud as she could.

"I'm a cowboy! On a steel horse I ride. I'm wanted—Wanted—" she echoed herself in a high pitched scream that resembled music in absolutely no form, "Dead or alive."

And as she sang I realized that maybe she wasn't the only one who reacted badly to a bit of intimidation. I was willing to admit it: I was completely intimidated by this beautiful, intelligent, rhythmically challenged girl. It didn't matter what she'd called me that very first day (for I'd called her far worse) because, just like her, I hadn't been expecting to fall.

"Wanted!" she shouted again and even I found myself shouting out a bit of a cheer in between rabid bursts of laughter. "Dead or alive."

And I suddenly felt like an idiot. If only I'd said yes…

* * *

Carly's rapid wedding plans became the center of everyone's lives over the next two months. Everyday I itched to ask Carly for her sister's number, but she had turned into a beast that refused to listen to anything that didn't concern floral arrangements or ice sculptures or whatever else it is women become obsessed with when trying to plan a wedding in three months or less.

Plus, even if I'd gotten her number, I wouldn't know what to say. To me, calling her out of the blue seemed rather creepy. I considered having Doug do it for me… but that just seemed cruel. (Cruel and Doug in the same sentence: Does this mean I'm going soft?)

Either way I was too busy to date. I was now running all of Starsky's distribution for the entire state of Pennsylvania and trying as hard as I could not to turn into Nick. I think I was failing rather miserably. The other day, I'd actually got left hanging on a high-five. (It was by Doug. Yeah, pathetic.)

And I was in one sad state of lonely when the rehearsal dinner finally rolled around the corner, not to mention the fact that my best friend was seconds away from abandoning me. But the night still passed in a blur and I barely even remember drooling about the soft skin that showed in the places where Darcy's sundress was rather scarce.

The dinner was a hectic affair with Jack's fussy parents and my fainting mother and the only interaction we had the entire night was the moment I caught Darcy's eye and tried not to laugh while Jack gave a particularly beautiful speech comparing his love for Carly to his hybrid car.

The wedding, however, was a whole new story. Jack, Jack's younger brother and I waited at the end of the aisle. First came Lily (having suddenly appeared back in the states with a wedding band and a sun tan and a particularly giggly Nick—tends to get rather girlish after having had sex), then I felt my jaw hit the ground and I wondered how Carly could have done this to me. Darcy came walking briskly down the aisle in that damn dress of red silk.

Yeah. It was better than the picture.

And before I knew it the ceremony was over and I was trying not to drool on the light red tablecloth at the ceremony while I watched Darcy at the reception, observing her sister's happiness as she shared her fist dance as a married woman.

And then the happy couple broke apart and I found myself being dragged to the floor by the bride herself, who seemed rather compassionate about my state of preoccupation and very patient with me as I fumbled across the dance floor, my mind processing things slower as I watched Jack pull my Darcy onto the floor.

It was then, my eyes flashing in misery, jealousy and awe as I watched Darcy dance and laugh with her new brother-in-law that Carly finally whispered in my ear: "You know you were right. I picked the red for you."

I looked down at the saucy little wench, who smiled back at me mischievously right before spinning out of my arms and displacing Darcy's spot as her husband's dancing partner.

Now who knew that Carly was an evil genius? (After all these years that she'd merely been an innocent receptionist…)

Before I knew what had happened, Darcy was lodged easily into my arms and was standing there smiling, genuinely amused at my confusion. (Seriously, how did that happen?) "This is the part where we dance," she said, her eyebrows raised, her lip being bitten.

I couldn't speak. How could any guy? That damn dress she was wearing was backless and I was finally touching that soft skin that had been taunting me for months now.

"Iain?" she asked, no longer amused. Worried, but not amused. "Anyone home?" She waved her hand in front of my face. Oh right. I forgot that you're supposed to respond when someone asks you a question. "Do you need air? We could go for a walk."

I shook my head and tugged on my necktie. I've been wearing a tie almost everyday since I first started my job at 19. Why the hell did I suddenly feel as if I was suffocating?

"Can we go outside anyway?" she asked hopefully. "Doug's staring at us like he's about to stab one of us."

I briefly looked at Doug. Oh wow. He did look murderous. I wonder which one of us he wanted to kill more. I mean he had just been talking about his devoted love for Darcy none too long ago, but Darcy and I were merely dancing—Holy shit! Have Darcy and I been this close to each other that entire time?

No wonder I'm suffocating. I was enveloped in her sunshiny scent. It's easy to forget how to breathe when it consumes your body. (And yet I still can't bring myself to step away… Odd.)

"Yeah. Air," I gasped, turning towards the doors, but bringing her along with me, leading her by the small of her back. I felt like a parasite. I'd latched on and now I wasn't going to let go until I'd sucked the life right out of her. (Wow, horrible simile.)

"Feeling better?" she asked hopefully as I stumbled through the glass doors to the patio deck to the golf club.

Nope. My lungs were still burning. I nodded anyway, but she hardly looked assured.

"Are you having a panic attack?" she asked me bluntly.

I nodded even though I wasn't. (It wasn't a lie. I mean I've never had a panic attack before! How should I know what a panic attack feels like?)

"Are you freaking out because your two best friends just got married?"

Huh?

"And now you're worried that they're going to start a family and go off to leave you to become some lonely asshole—like Nick or something?"

Um… "Ah! The mind probes!" I shouted, dodging seriousness.

Darcy just giggled, but only for a moment, then the laughter faded and she watched me seriously, expectantly. I suddenly realized why I'd spent my entire life avoiding expectations: They're rather intimidating.

"What do you want from me?" I asked, scowling at her, but still playful. "Droning monologues have never been my thing. I'm not Nick."

"That's for sure," she replied, seeming quite grateful for the fact.

There it was. Another thick pause. I knew this conversation was too good to be true… Darcy merely bit her lip. (Naturally.) I was quickly growing exacerbated by her continuous study. It made me feel as if I had something on my face.

"If you hate your job," she concluded finally, "then you should quit."

That's it? That's all she could come up with after all those drawn-out minutes of intense contemplation? I snorted at her. "I was expecting something a bit more probing."

"Oh, you don't want to know what I really think about you."

"You couldn't be more wrong. I'm very curious actually." Very,_ very _curious.

"I think"—it was now her turn to make the approach and I waited, unexpectantly excited, as she took each slow step closer to me—"that you look rather cute when you—"

"Darcy!"

Oh no. He's back. I though for sure I'd gotten rid of him this time.

"It's absolutely marvelous to see you again."

"Nick, don't you have something better to be doing right this instant?" I asked irritably, pretty angry that we'd been interrupted when we were just inches apart. Or possibly that was relief? All I knew was that my lungs were aching again.

"That's what she said."

What? That makes absolutely no sense.

"I'm so sorry, you guys!" Lily came rushing onto the patio in a simple red dress with a fresh sun tan and a sparkling gold ring on her left hand. Suspicions officially confirmed. "He snuck away when I was talking to Carly." She turned to Nick, or should I say her new husband, and began muttering about how when she tells him to stay put he should do it.

I couldn't tell if it sounded more like she was his babysitter or his dogsitter.

"Are you guys enjoying the par-_tay_?" Nick shouted. And yes, true to form, he did do the cabbage patch.

Darcy stifled a giggle in her hand and when she resurfaced, she was crewing away on that poor bottom lip of hers. (You'd think her lips would be all cut up or something.)

Lily rolled her eyes and hugged her cousin. "Darcy, I've missed you. And Iain—_the Iain—_it's really good to see you again." She hugged me too. (She smelled like suntan lotion. Not at all like sunshine. How disappointing.)

"You look… you look tan," I commented, observing her.

Lily held her hand out and observed her skin tone. "Yeah, my skin's looking pretty good lately. I can't tell if it's just from all the sunshine or the post-marital bliss."

"It's probably from all the sex—"

Lily smacked Nick on the arm. He promptly shut up. Lily rolled her eyes as he rubbed his arm and whimpered.

(Yeah. Dogsitter for sure.)

"Well we just wanted to say hi," Lily said smiling and grabbing Nick by the arm to lead him back inside to the reception.

"But I want to play with Iain," Nick whined. Lily dragged him inside anyway.

I whistled as Nick tried to latch on to the door, but Lily managed to overpower him and pry him back inside. "Now that's a match made in heaven if I've ever seen one."

And with that Darcy could no longer bite her laughter back any longer. She lost it in her giggles, resting her heavy head on my shoulder as she peeled over. I liked the feeling and I wondered if she's stop her hysterics if I tried to wrap my arms around her. I made a mental list of pros and cons. (Pro: I get to warp my arms around her. Con: there's a pretty good chance she'd stop laughing and I'd grown rather fond of the sound.)

What the hell? You only live once, right?

And just when I was about to get my arms all the way around her and pull her closer into my body we heard foreign giggling coming from the doorway. At first I thought it was Nick, but even Nick wouldn't be so dumb as to wear such a frilly white dress.

"What are you guys doing?" Jack asked, wiggling his eyebrows at the two of us and standing under the porch light. (Carly was there too. What, did you think it was Jack wearing the dress?)

I let out another frustrated sigh. At this rate I'd never get to kiss her yet alone round the corner into second base.

"We came to say goodbye," Carly added, smiling that same maniacal smile. (She took far too much credit for the situation.)

"But we weren't expecting you to be…"

"Otherwise preoccupied."

Great. They'd been married for like three hours and they were already finishing each other's sentences. All I know is that there's no way I'm sticking around to see their ten year anniversary.

"That was really creepy," Darcy added dryly. Why did I suddenly have the feeling that the same thoughts we running through both our heads?

"Oh shut up and hug me before I have to leave for the flight," Carly gushed, rushing to hug her sister goodbye. Did everyone in the entire world get to hold Darcy in their arms except me? Geeze!

I elbowed Jack and winked suggestively. "I know you'll be nervous, sonny, but I want you to know that there's nothing to worry about. When two people love each other like you love Carly the wedding night is—"

"Oh, shut up," Jack groaned, elbowing me back, but harder and in the ribs. He then proceeded to hug me awkwardly (but in a very manly way) and then swept Darcy up in his arms, lifting her off the ground so that her legs were kicking in the air.

"You guys have fun," I told Cary, hugging her myself and trying not to be jealous as Darcy made a squeal of delight at Jack's embrace.

"And you," Carly returned, winking at me. Evil minx. I swear…

In the intake of a breath, they were gone. My best friends in the entire world were off to enjoy their lies together, and where was I off to?

Oh that's right…

"They're gone," I said, finally turning back to Darcy with a slightly wicked smile of my own.

Darcy sighed. "Forever," she whispered, letting the word tumble out of her mouth accidentally.

I didn't care that she looked kind of sad, she looked pretty and wistful and I believe we'd had a kiss interrupted before it even began. I was pretty eager to get that going again.

"But they were annoying anyway," I muttered, going in for the prize.

"Yeah." Was it a word? Or did I just imagine that and it was merely a labored breath? It was so soft I couldn't tell.

"What the hell do you think you're doing with my mate!"

You have got to be kidding me.

"Doug?" I whirled around. It was clearly Doug (who else in the world would ever say mate when referring to a girl?), but my head was so foggy that I couldn't have said my own name if someone had asked for it. "What are you talking about?"

"You're kissing my girl," Doug shouted, suddenly stepping up to me kind of intimidatingly. (His eyes were glowing red behind his glasses. Is Doug a demon or a Visine commercial just waiting to happen?)

And with that thought, he punched me right on the side of my face.

"Ow," I shouted, turning from him and grabbing my eye. "What the hell!"

"I have a right to protect my territory like a wolf protects the pack."

Darcy suddenly jumped into action. "Doug, I can't be your"—she took a deep gulp— "girlfriend."

"Why not? I desire you. I let you pet my platypus. You should therefore be my mate."

(Please god, please don't let "pet my platypus" be some sort of sick innuendo.)

"It's not that easy," Darcy said calmly. (How could she be so calm? I was hunched over, holding my face and shouting obscenities.) "I can't just be your girlfriend because you want me to be."

"Why not? If I were the male peacock you would be attracted to me for my beautiful feathers. Are my feathers not pretty enough for you?" Only Doug could say that and sound sincere.

But somehow, Darcy seemed to take pity on his social incapacity. "That's my point exactly Doug."

What?

"Your feathers are just so beautiful that I feel I could never match your… beauty."

I know I was in pain, but a statement like that could make anyone laugh. Oh yeah, Doug's some beauty all right.

"I can't be with you, Doug," Darcy continued. "I would feel as if I was just holding you back. I need someone a bit more average. You know"—she shot me a wicked glance, the same one her evil sister has—"like Iain."

Ouch.

"You're right." Doug smiled at her pathetically, self absorbed enough to buy her bullshit. "Iain is pretty average."

Darcy let out a single whimper of laughter before she could bite her lip and hold it back. It sounded kind of like a hiccough. She was enjoying this far too much. "So Doug, I need you to give Iain and I some space. It hurts me too much to think of you as the one that got away."

Doug tilted his head to the side and regarded her compassionately. "I'm sorry to have caused you such pain," he replied (idiot) as he headed back toward the reception. "I'll never forget you Darcy," he shouted back from the door, in what he could only hope was quite dramatic.

Darcy lost herself in laughter once again as soon as he was out of sight. I would have joined her but my temple was throbbing in pain. He actually hit me. I mean I always knew Doug was dangerous, but damn this hurts!

"Are you okay?" she managed to stop laughing long enough to ask, coming over toward me to examine my wound. I whimpered as soon as she touched me, either because her skin against mine sent shocks through me or because it really did hurt. "I've never had anyone get punched because of me, you know."

"Well there really is a sunny side of life, now isn't there?" I replied sarcastically. Darcy pressed a bit harder on my already swollen temple, punishing me for my sharp tongue. I got her back though; all it took was a whimper of pain and her face filled with twisting guilt.

We were silent for a while as she concentrated on my bruise and I concentrated on my breathing. (That sunshiny smell will be the death of me.)

"Do you really think I'm average?"

Darcy giggled from the bottom of her throat. "Nope."

That's it? That's all she can say? No?

Suddenly, my mental pouting was interrupted as Darcy decided to elaborate. "I think you're cute, and funny, and more intelligent than you give yourself credit for."

"Oh." Hey. That's rather nice actually. "Care to elaborate?"

Darcy gave another throaty laugh. "And I think you should get a job that you actually like doing and that there's no reason for you to be associating with people like Doug."

"Wow, when you put it that way, I am pretty great."

Darcy rolled her eyes and clamped her hands on either side of my cheeks (one lighter than the other to avoid my sick bruise). "Could you just kiss me already?"

Oh, what do you know, she tastes like sunshine too.

* * *

"And then Jon Stewart looks at me and is like, 'Thinking about your lack of facial hair won't make it grow any faster.'"

Darcy giggled and I could feel the vibrations run all along my chest. She lifted her palm from the bed and pressed it to my cheek that hung above her. "Aw, don't worry Iain. It'll start growing in soon."

"Oh, you're going to pay for that," I muttered, rolling over onto her and squishing all the air right out of her.

This had kind of become our nightly ritual: me playing with her soft curls in bed while I told her about all the funny things Jon Stewart said that day, and her, in turn, expressing her utter hatred for her own boss. I liked it. Telling her about my day was the best part_ of_ my day.

Things were going well for Darcy. She was about to become an aunt in about three months and had just spent a week with her amazing boyfriend (that's me) at her sister's house (equipped with white picket fence, 2.5 children and a two car garage, what else?) and working on her first anthology of original works.

Carly and Jack were off in La-La Land. Happy as little birds. Pregnant. Giddy. And absolutely disgusting to be around. (The sentence completion thing was getting worse.)

Nick and Lily were doing good, but in a freakier way. Amazingly they were still together and their relationship actually seemed to balance their personalities. (Lily was taming him a bit more everyday.) They'd had a kid, and despite the fear that the idea of Nick procreating instills in me even to this day, their son's rather cute if not a bit hyperactive and of short attention. (Although he's only a year old. There might be hope for him yet…)

Doug had gotten over Darcy with time and a bit of loving from the straight laced Susan. (They still sneak around as if no one knows they're together, but we all know.) He also took over my job at Starsky's with such honor that he literally saluted me as I left the building. He loves being able to bring his pet mongoose around any old time he wants.

Things had kind of fallen into order. I'd quit my job, moved to the city to live with Darcy's cousin Richie, got a new job fetching coffee for Jon Stewart, got promoted to fetching dry cleaning as well for Jon Stewart (I think I'm quickly climbing the latter to success), spent as much time as I possibly could with my amazing girlfriend, and finally ended up laying here on Darcy's bed gazing down at the giggling girl of my dreams. (I still live for the weekends, but for other reasons.)

"Ahg I can't breathe," I heard Darcy gasp from beneath me and I reluctantly conceded and got back off her. Her hair was tousled and she really was breathing heavily, but she pounced on me quickly with a kiss anyway.

Even after these almost two years I still felt all tingly from her kisses.

"You know what I think," she said softly, resuming her former position in which she was laying flat on her back while I stared down at her from my side.

"I don't read minds."

"I think we should be more spontaneous before we end up becoming as taboo as my sister."

I nodded. "Yes, but can we remain less spontaneous than your cousin. I'd think it best that you didn't elope to Jamaica with a freaky man you just met."

"So no sudden elopements?"

"Only if you want to." (Honestly, I'd have done anything she wanted me to.)

She shook her head. "Nah. Let's save that one for a rainy day."

"What would you like to do then?"

"Well you could"—she bit her lip—"…move in."

I scrunched up my face. Nowadays I understood exactly what the lip biting meant. I could read her subtle facial expressions that implied an entire conversations worth of emotions. "How long have you been trying to slip that in there?"

She shrugged. "Just a couple of weeks."

"You could have just asked." Although it was just like her to wait forever to do so.

"Where's the fun in that?"

"I'll bring my stuff over tomorrow." I considered what I'd put where, but then remembered that it'd probably just remain boxed up in her extra room for years anyway. (Who knew? The only person messier than me is Darcy. I should have known.) Oh well. "You know, Richie is going to kill you for stealing his roommate."

She shrugged and pulled me down for a kiss. "I can live with that."

And I could live with her too. And my new job, working with intelligent people. And my sickening best friend and his lubby-dubby wife. And Doug's incessant calls even though I'd quit forever and a half ago. Oh, and that sunshiny smell.

I sure do love that sunshiny smell.

_

* * *

An entire story in one shot. Like a real one. Someone told me that my last one was missing something and I think I know what it was: sexual tension and character development. I hope I hit those on the head. _

_So did you enjoy? I contemplating writing a companion from Darcy's point of view, but I just don't know. This one was pretty exhausting to write. (And Over 30 pages long.)_

_Either way, I hope you liked it. I've been looking for an angst-free, cliff-hanger free, no three month wait between chapters, kind of story. I figured a one-shot gave me the entire thing. (And maybe a little bit of angst.) I was always hoping to just stumble across one, but eventually decided to just write it myself._

_Oh and yeah. Iain is a bit like Jim on The Office. Because I love him and I can't help it._


End file.
